There is a grey shadow about my neck
That stifles every which way I turn.
By Arif uz Zaman
For the REPLY to this poem, read Hope ii
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An Ache. Always an ache.
The terrible struggle of days and aeons
And from this trembling body I gaze aghast at my terrestial hand that shakes,
Severed, in front of my face across the space,
Almost light years away in this enclosure.
But it is real. Continue reading